One evening recently, I hurried out the door for my walk just as the evening sun dipped below the horizon. I was worried that I was too late,disappointed that sunset had already happened,certain I had missed the day’s sky splendor. ​But I also knew I needed the exercise, because as I recently learned, anxiety is energy that needs to go somewhere, and I definitely needed to go somewhere!

​My jumbled thoughts and scrambling feet rushed down the road, past the cemetery. I walked directly toward the spot where the sun had disappeared. The skyscape before me wasn’t spectacular, but it was nice, and I could feel my perspective shifting, broadening beyond my tiny (in-my-head) world.

I breathed in deep draughts of the chill evening air, pausing just a moment to inhale the peace that surrounded me.

And then I glanced over my shoulder; behind me,to the northeast, the sky was a show of fancy pink and gentle blue.

Oh.

I watched the post-sunset color show lighting up the sky, and I pondered the message written there.

​I surveyed the cows, the horses, grazing, heads down, every one of them unaware of what was spreading above them like a flood of glory.

I wondered how often I have been just like them. Head down.Tunnel vision.Nose to the ground.Focused only on what was in front of me, and completely oblivious to what was very near if only I had shifted my perspective to take it in.

The color crept west and stained every cloud fragment magenta or steely blue. ​

​And then everything went pinkest pink...

It took me awhile to get home that evening, walking frontwards, backwards, circling, trying to read the handwriting on the canvas spread above me. In Psalm 19:1, David wrote: “The heavens are telling the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims His handiwork.” (Psalm 19:1) Tonight, the heavens were telling and I was listening, and here's what I heard:

Don’t give up too soon. Even when you think it's too late, God has a way of showing up.

I’ve been trying to be more intentional about pause,about refreshment, about figuring out what it means to rest…and then doing it.(Or, in some cases, NOT doing whatever it is that isn’t restful.)

I’m recognizing how easy it is to neglect this kind of self-care, soul care. I want to be mindful every single day of the wonder of “the holy present,” but it's an unending challenge.

Ironically, this goal is particularly slippery for me to catch hold of on Sundays. Our household is deeply, (joyfully!) involved in the life/work of a faith community, and keeping track of “the holy present” can get lost in the shuffle of teaching, leading worship, preaching, connecting. Don’t misunderstand – it’s good stuff; it just gets a little crazy. And finding the way to pause and refresh isn't easy. Sometimes a nap just doesn't do it.

​Maybe our journey wasn’t truly a ramble, because we were in search of something. We just didn’t know quite what. But I think we found it.

We drove through autumn splendor, splashes of brilliant color that I didn't expect to see, not yet. (The first day of autumn isn't until Friday...and it still seems a bit like summer in my garden!? Oh, broccoli.)

Our original destination was the Stone Mountain Hawkwatch, but we missed the show for the day. “900 broad-winged hawks,” the spotter explained. His observation list continued:“four bald eagles, three ospreys, a harrier...oh, and ?? monarch butterflies.” (They migrate too! Individually, like the raptors, not in flocks like robins.)

But apparently the bird migration superhighway shuts down in the late afternoon, as temperatures drop and thermals cease so we watched but spotted only one broadwing who had apparently also taken a longer nap than he intended!

We thought we'd watch the sunset here, but the due west view was obscured by trees. And so, our destination of disappointment was the starting point for our next adventure. (I want to remember this life lesson...)

We rambled behind the Hawkwatch on a path I'd never hiked; now I know it's part of the Standing Stone Trail. So much beauty surrounded us.

Mountain ash

the (trail) goes ever on and on, down from the door where it began...(with apologies to J.R.R. Tolkien)

And on and on and on...We stumbled upon a grand amphitheater from which to view the sunset."Where am I," I wondered.

And who is Sausser?

Pile?!? The sign seems rather understated.

Seating options were myriad; the stadium was empty.

But you had to bring your own seat cushion.

And refreshments. Mmm. Sweet and salty.

Even without a sunset, the view was vast and varied. We were peering into the 'Shire as I've always imagined it, mellow and soft in the angled rays of deepening day. (Only our 'Shire was behind us...)

And then sunset.

Glorious.

Luminous.

Transcendent.

And I've run out of adjectives.....let the sunset speak.

"The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims His handiwork." (Psalm 19:1)

​

The heavens declare...God did this. God is like this:endlessly creative, no two sunsets exactly the same,and happening every minute around the globe. All.the.time. From a certain perspective,sunset is continuous. ​(Sunrise too...)

The sun dips below the last cloud bank, the last mountain range. It's gone.

The soundtrack of Late Summer Dusk is playing, louder now -we're surrounded by crickets and cicadas and intense katydids. Shadows fall across the 'Shire. Time to head home.

Roads go ever ever onUnder cloud and under star, ​ Yet feet that wandering have goneTurn at last to home afar. (from Bilbo's Walking Song in ch. 19 of The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien)

It's much darker as we re-enter the wooded path, and I wonder about nocturnal creatures awakening. We encounter only two, a large toad probably soaking in the last bit of rock warmth, and a porcupine hustling out of..."oops, who are you??" and rapidly back into an impossible slim rock crevice.

Right here, right now, it's dark,darker,darkest, but somewhere, the heavens are​(still!)telling the glory of God.

Author

I'm finding my way beyond the maze of the "middle" years (if I'm gonna be 100 and something someday...) ​living life as a country woman who is a writer, gardener, wife, mom, nature observer, teacher,and most of all a much loved child of God.